


Dude Looks Like a Lady

by UniquelyQueer_67



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, BAMF Merlin, Crossdressing, Disguise, Drag Queens, First Kiss, Fluff and Humor, M/M, Merlin is a Little Shit, Modern Era, My First Fanfic, My First Work in This Fandom, Oblivious Arthur, Oblivious Arthur Pendragon, Pining Arthur, Post-Season/Series 05 Finale, Smut if you squint REALLY hard, then he isn't
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-21
Updated: 2018-08-21
Packaged: 2019-06-30 11:29:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,941
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15750774
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UniquelyQueer_67/pseuds/UniquelyQueer_67
Summary: In this au, Arthur returned from Avalon a few weeks before he reunites with Merlin in this fic, and had to figure out the world by himself during that time (once he found Google he was pretty much set). But apparently he doesn't know enough when he falls for a gorgeous young woman performing in a club; or so he thinks...





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first ever fic, speed written at 2am after a "stroke of creative genius". It was super fun to write (not to post tho bc this is my 5th attempt) and I hope it's equally as fun to read! Enjoy!

Arthur was sure, 100%, _totally _convinced. He'd got it, he'd figured it out, he's now a functioning member of modern society! "Wait until Merlin hears about this." He muttered smugly to himself.__  
He'd been searching for days now, giving in depth descriptions to almost total strangers and following every little lead he found. Still no Merlin.  
But he was determined to find his best friend and, by the gods, he was going to throw _so many _heavy things at Merlin's head once he'd been found.__

_____ _

He remembered when he first rose up out of the lake. He'd made his way to shore fully clothed (chainmail and all) and soaking wet. He felt almost as if the water from the lake had reached his very bones when, suddenly, he was completely dry. Next, a voice, "Arthur" it called, echoing like a stream concealed by a large cave, "My name is Freya, to the natives I am the Lady of the Lake. I am here to instruct you."  
Her gentle words filled Arthur's mind and he welcomed the help in his uncertainty and confusion,  
"Continue, Lady Freya." He requested, that she did, "Once and Future King Arthur of Camelot, it has been fifteen centuries since you have set foot on Albion's soils. The people have grown prosperous and strong, even after the fall of Camelot. Their progressions impossible to count.  
"You must adapt to these progressions, learn, absorb, imitate.  
This is crucial to the completion of your quest, you must find the sorcerer Emrys. Find him and your quest will become clear to you. Should you need help, use your mind to call out to me, sure and true. I will answer. However, I cannot tell you the location of the sorcerer, that is beyond my knowledge. You must find Merlin alone.  
"Do not tell anyone about your plans, your quest or your life before your death. No one will believe you, for the tales of Camelot have faded into meer legend, stories of fantasy that we tell our children. Magic has died out altogether, and exists now only in myth. Emrys is the first and last sorcerer of Albion, that is why you must find him. Find him and your destiny may be fulfilled at last. Find him, my king, find him...." Her voice, like an echo, slowly faded away into silence.

Arthur turned on his new "mobile" and checked this incredibly useful extension of the already wonderful "Google", known as "Google Maps" to check that he was at the correct place.  
The young man had said he knew someone who matched Arthur's description of Merlin _perfectly _and was happy to not only provide an address, but give Arthur plenty of contact information in case he got lost! What a courteous gentleman, Arthur had thought, but a strange gesture to wink at him in that scenario, come to think of it...  
No. There's no time to think about silly eyelid gestures when he should be searching for Merlin.__

____

After several more checks of his mobile and asking a number of locals, he was 100% sure that this was the place.  
"On Wednesdays We Wear Pink" or "Wednesdays" as the locals seem to call it, was a "club". Arthur remembered asking Lady Freya about this one. It was like a pub (which Arthur was told was almost identical to a tavern), but more hygienic, loud and colourful.  
As he stepped up to the bouncer he flashed his ID card and was let straight in.

Freya was right, there was alcohol, he could barely hear his own thoughts over the din of various things, chatting and music were the most prominent. The lights, the clothing, even the decor was bursting with colour, every colour Arthur could think of, a "rainbow" he believed Freya had called it.

Barging himself between sweaty, indistinguishable bodies of the drunk and horny, he made his way to the bar and ordered the closest thing to mead he could get nowadays: a pint.

From where he was sitting he had a perfect view of the stage, presumably where various kinds of performers would go. But he wasn't here for the entertainment.  
A tap on the shoulder interrupted his scanning of the building, "You looking for somebody, hun?" Asked a suspiciously deep-voiced, but feminine sounding woman with an American accent to his left and- OH, BY THE GODS IS THAT A LOT OF MAKEUP. 

He shunned that less-than-polite thought from his mind and addressed the woman, "Yes, as a matter of fact, I am. I'm Arthur Phillips, and how may I address you?" She smiled mischievously and answered "Mary Jane Monroe"  
"Ah, well Mary Jane, the person I'm looking for performs here apparently so, is there any way you could hel-" before Arthur could finish, Mary held a slim finger donned with the longest, most pointed false nails he'd ever seen in front of his lips and said, "If you're looking for a performer, not many of us know each other, we're not exactly working a 9-5 job here. So if it's a performer you want, there's only one girl who knows every bitch on heels to ever Cher her way into this dump, and that's _Morgan La Magie _."__

____

She finished with a French accent on Morgan's name. Arthur didn't have time to dordle, he needed to find Merlin (or at least check this area off of the list) post haste, "Where can I find her?" He demanded, in his most kingly tone, "Ooh! So pushy!" Mary mused, gesturing with her talon-like nails and batting her comically large eyelashes, "Well, the good news is, she's here tonight to perform." She stated,  
"Then what's the bad news?" Arthur pressed, willing Mary to stop beating around the bush and help him, "She's about to walk on stage." Mary finished in a low, triumphant, almost mocking tone and Arthur spun towards the stage to spot this so called "Morgan La Magie".

The club stopped. The immense background noise faded away and everything except Morgan had blurred from his sight.

My gods...Arthur thought, or said, or both.

She was the most beautiful woman Arthur had ever seen, Guinevere be damned (she'd been dead for well over a thousand years so, no harm no foul). Her straight brown hair reached just above her tail bone. Arthur scanned her from the bottom up, taking in every detail. 

She was wearing impossibly high, deep red, pointed toe heels on her feet, her legs were pale, smooth and seemed to stretch on into oblivion until you reached her (most likely lycra) black pencil skirt, a slit rising up the side for her perfect left thigh, the fabric at the back perfectly hugging the curves of her wonderful- nope, none of that. 

His eyes traveled to her crisp, white blouse, unbuttoned enough to see her pale, delicate collar bones, but not enough to drive Arthur truly insane, the sleeves on the blouse roughly pulled up just below her elbows. This revealing long, slim fingers with a few plain rings on them and long false nails matching the colour of her shoes (not nearly the size of Mary's). Finally, her face, barely any contour or highlight exaggerating her naturally sharp, gorgeous cheekbones, false lashes much smaller than Mary's, a glittering and subtle smoky eye and a deep red, matte lip. It was clear that Mary used her lipstick to create the illusion of thick lips, but Morgan's pillow lips were perfect, alluring... calm down Arthur, he reminded himself.

He'd learned the ins and outs of makeup through Freya as well, she seemed happy to oblige and was fascinated by it and Arthur marveled at how it could transform a person, inside and out.

It was then he spotted Morgan's eyes, a deep, mischievous and kind blue. Her eyes seemed to tell a story, one of friendship, love, struggle, triumph, and so many other things that were beyond his comprehension. 

Then the music began.

She clearly wasn't singing, but the voice seemed to fit her so well and she matched the song in attitude and timing so perfectly that it would've been impossible to tell had Arthur not heard it on the radio so many times.  
See seemed to give it new life, looking at every audience member like it was just them in the room, nobody else. Arthur found himself hoping against hope that that were true. Her body moved so fluidly and hypnotically with the music that Arthur found himself wandering closer to the stage, his pint abandoned and the distant cackling from Mary Jane barely even noticeable.

Every line fell from her lips like they were coming from deep in her soul, so sultry and raw with want. Arthur had no idea what to do with himself other than watch, transfixed, mouth open slightly in anticipation.  
He watched intently as the song hit it's chorus. The speed suddenly picking up and Morgan La Magie sprang into action, all the emotions being conveyed as before but...demanding, energetic, ordering you to obey.  
This repeated through the second verse and chorus, but this time, her intense gaze fixed on Arthur as it ended. His breath hitched and he felt heat prickle throughout his body, was he sweating? He shivered.

The bridge began, demanding yet gentle, as Morgan opened her hand to Arthur, inviting him on stage. He grabbed it immediately.  
"Tell me if it's too much." She whispered to him, her breath hot on Arthur's ear and neck, making parts of him hot that he really didn't want to be hot right now.  
Before he knew what came over him, they were dancing, she toyed with him up and down the stage, their bodies pressing and separating, her hands pulling and pushing away, wandering over his body, but only where Arthur let her. Her entire self beckoning him and shooting him back when he got too close.

Heat, body, sweat, touch, pant, gasp, want, want, want.

The closer the song got to the end, the closer they'd get, the faster they'd move, the more they'd touch the more Arthur wanted to be alone with her, so so bad.  
The last few lines of the song began and faster than Arthur could comprehend, Morgan thrust her left thigh into Arthur's right hand, maintaining fierce eye contact, which Arthur was happy to return as she grabbed the back of his neck with one hand and pulled his forehead up against her's, locking eyes while Arthur pulled her closer, closing the gap between their bodies. 

He could feel her hot breath on his lips and was so close to her face it was almost too much.  
Morgan pressed into him and placed her remaining hand on Arthur's shoulder as he rested his on her waist. Arthur could feel every bend and curve of her against him.

They held that pose once the song abruptly ended, panting, adrenaline racing through Arthur's veins, their eyes locked, Arthur's full of want and Morgan's full of what he assumed was a facade of lust to make the performance more interesting.

Either way, he was quickly consumed by emptiness once she pulled away and swept off stage, all in one quick motion.

Tall. He thought, the fact only striking him now; she was taller than me. Most probably even without those heels.

Then Arthur remembered why he was here in the first place. He rushed after her and to Morgan's dressing room, where she quickly shut the door. Before she had a chance to undress even the slightest bit, Arthur burst (a bit too hard) through the door.


	2. Chapter 2

"Bloody hell, mate!" She shrieked (Arthur supposed it must just be common for the women in this area to have deep voices), "You almost gave me a pissing heart attack, I haven't even had the chance to sit down yet, what the hell do you _want _!?" Her rage growing with every word.__  
Compose yourself, Arthur thought, be calm, collected. Show her how sensitive you are, give her that classic Pendragon Charm™ from back in the days of wooing noble women.  
"Alright, well there's no need to get stressy with me! I only wanted to get in here before you started undressing or something!!" He yelled, the message he told himself beforehand clearly not reaching his gaping, cavernous gob. "I wanted to ask you something about one of your performers!" He pleaded as she attempted to escort him from her dressing room (with a grip worthy of a young trainee of Arthur's).  
"Not my problem, pretty boy." She snapped, hissing that last comment like it was the biggest insult in the English language.  
"Please, it's my friend, I've been searching for him for almost a week now, I can't find him anywhere!" He protested, clamping his hands down onto the doorframe.  
"Well you won't find him here, I can promise you that!" She persisted,  
"Then can you at least help me, I don't know what to do with myself while he's not around. His life is worth a hundred of mine. I just want to find him, to know that he's safe." Arthur ended in a near whisper, his voice cracking as he spoke. There was so much truth to these words and clearly the beautiful and fiery Morgan La Magie felt for him.  
As soon as he spoke those words, her grip loosened on him and she returned to the inside of her dressing room.  
"Well?" She questioned, "Do you want me to help you or not?" Her voice impatient, yet kind.  
Arthur fully entered the dressing room, closing the door with a click behind him as Morgan nodded in it's direction.  
"Describe him to me." She asked bluntly, with an edge of encouragement to her voice that put years on her.  
"Well..." Arthur began, and as Morgan directed him to a chair and asked him to sit down, he described Merlin. In full. From his dark hair to his blue eyes to his enchanting smile (If you'll forgive the wordplay) that became infectious to the rest of the room. His lazy workmanship and his unwavering devotion to Arthur. His wisdom and his kindness. His time spent mostly in the tavern when Arthur needed him most (which, looking back, was probably a cover up for some magical, heroic shenanigans).  
He told her the good, and the annoying, although the reason why Arthur found these qualities annoying he'd never know. For, more often than not, these "annoyances" would be the first thing he'd look forward to in the morning, never ceasing to make him unreasonably happy.  
"Wow..." Morgan marveled, a tender look in her eyes that made Arthur's heart leap into his throat, ", you really care about this clumsy little shite, don't you?" She enquired with an out-of-place sheepish smile as she stared needlessly at her shoes.  
"I've never heard a statement that better describes my relationship with him, if I'm being totally honest." Arthur replied, thinking out loud to this stunning, but completely strange, woman. As if he'd known Morgan his whole life; and honestly, it felt a whole lot like he had.  
"Then be a little more honest with me here." She requested, "What on earth is it that makes you so captivated by me?" She asked, in pure wonder.  
Arthur asked himself how the hell she'd figured it out, and he asked her just that. She just chuckled lightly, sweetly and said, "I've seen a lot of things in my life, I deal with people 24/7," she paused to look Arthur dead in the eye, "but I've only ever seen a handful look at someone the way you look at me." She finished, her voice sounding almost sad, filled with loss, having the same effect as one of her previous statements. All of a sudden, her eyes filled with age.  
"Ok then. I'll be honest." Arthur stated, standing from the chair he was in. Morgan mirrored the gesture, locking her round, bottomless eyes with Arthur's.  
"As soon as I saw you walking onto that stage, everything about you captured me. Like a weight had been lifted the minute I laid eyes on you. Every inch of you is perfect, as if hand sculpted by angels." Morgan smirked at that, a devious, knowing smirk. Arthur thought nothing of it and proceeded, "When you danced with me it felt like nobody else was in the room, it was just you and I. I can't describe it in any other way except that it feels like pure love is radiating from my skin, desperately clinging to you, wanting us to join together. To be free." At this part however, Morgan frowned in thought, Arthur persisted still, "You are the most beautiful woman I've ever seen and if I don't kiss you soon I fear I may never get the chance again." Arthur finished, breathless with his affection for Morgan La Magie.  
"Then go ahead." She invited, like sweet, mischievous music to Arthur's ears. He froze, mouth agape in pure shock and confusion.  
"Hello?" Morgan beckoned, one eyebrow raised in a strangely familiar fashion. "Ok, I guess I'll do it." She shrugged, wiping off her lipstick.

___Before Arthur had time to process what she said, Morgan's lips were on his. Finally._  
They were soft and warm, as Arthur had hoped and he desperately squeezed his hand into her waist, melting into her as she melted into him.  
The kiss was tender, sweet and rapidly gaining speed as Morgan's slender fingers slid through Arthur's scalp and her teeth sunk gloriously into Arthur's top lip, causing him to let out a low, hungry growl.  
He attempted to tease Morgan's mouth open, but Arthur felt her smirk on his lips as she playfully refused to let him through.  
Eventually she gave, letting Arthur lick into Morgan's mouth, their tongues sliding together, fighting for control, for dominance.  
It was fast, messy and bloody amazing.  
Arthur parted lips with her, taking a moment to memorize the details of her face, the half lidded, lazily focused eyes, the flush barely visible under her makeup, her gorgeously red, swollen lips and her shaky, wanting breaths.  
He shifted down to that soft, pale neck and began licking and sucking and nibbling at her skin, a gloriously throaty moan escaping Morgan's lips. He moved down further still to Morgan's perfect, _perfect _collar bones and began pressing kisses along them when Morgan's shoulders began to shake slightly.  
He continued nonetheless, but then Morgan began making strange sounds...was she....laughing? __


	3. Chapter 3

Arthur pulled away completely to find Morgan positively howling with laughter. He placed his hands on his hips, "What the hell are you _doing _?" He asked, more out of confusion than frustration.  
Morgan was incapable of answering, she was doubled over, her face fully flushed with uncontrollable laughter.   
Arthur didn't think this was funny, he didn't have a clue what was going on. Why on EARTH is she laughing??? At this point, tears were streaming down Morgan's face.  
Just as she was quieting down and her breathing was returning to normal, Morgan took one look at Arthur's expression of utter bewilderment and burst out in a fit of ridiculously loud cackles.  
"What the bloody Hell are you laughing about!?" He pleaded with Morgan, just wanting an explanation.  
"You......really.......have no...... _idea _......do you?" She managed to force out between howls and frustratingly adorable snorts.  
"Look, I just want a straight answer!!" Arthur nearly boomed in frustration. This was made worse by the fact that Morgan seemed to find this particularly hilarious and progressed to _screaming _laughter.____  
"For God's sake! Will you end this pathetic display of insolence and compose yourself! You're acting like a bloody hyena!" Arthur spat, reminding him of all the times he'd ever gotten frustrated with Merlin and regretted throwing things at him, praying to the Gods that Arthur never inured his best friend.  
Morgan began to settle down, nobody could resist his kingly demands (Merlin would most likely call them tantrums, the insolent clotpole). However he had a funny feeling Morgan would question his particular choices of wording later on.  
Still snickering, Morgan La Magie shuffled her way over to a mannequin head which arthur only just picked up on.  
"You still haven't figured it out yet, have you, your highness?" She asked, a borderline conniving smile spreading across her face. There were lots of reasons she could be calling me that, Arthur thought. Many people have called me your highness before, but only in mocking of my pretentious manner.__

______Morgan pulled all the bobby pins out of her hair and slotted two thumbs neatly under her hair line.  
That's when the first piece fell into place._ _ _ _ _ _

______A wig._ _ _ _ _ _

__________Morgan removed her brown wig and carefully placed it on the mannequin head. She then pulled off her wig cap to reveal a short mop of jet-black hair which she ran her hand through. This style was common in modern women, Arthur thought. He'd seen it all the time and thought it to be quite practical.  
Morgan began removing all her rings, walking towards Arthur, pressing a slow, teasing kiss to his cheek and going straight past him to place all her jewellery into a white box.  
She then pulled off her shoes and placed them on a rack filled with colorful footwear. It was then that Arthur noticed the sheer size of her feet. He shrugged that thought away as she looked over to him, her face asking "Have you figured it out yet?"  
Arthur shrugged helplessly and watched as she rolled her eyes, turned with her back facing Arthur and removed her blouse. Arthur could see a white bra reaching around her back. She turned around and Arthur quickly screwed his eyes shut, out of courtesy.  
He could hear Morgan's sigh of exasperation as she moved closer to Arthur, pressing their lips together. She grabbed Arthur's hands and guided them to the clasp of her bra. Arthur got the hint, his heart pounding as he unhooked Morgan. She moved her body away to shrug off the bra and Arthur heard her toss it across the room.  
She pressed her body to his once more._ _

______Flat, Arthur thought. Flat._ _ _ _ _ _

______Suddenly he felt a pang of sympathy for Morgan. He pulled away from this beautiful, beautiful lady, and looked deep into her eyes.  
"I'm so sorry." He sighed, putting his finger over Morgan's mouth before she could protest, "You are incredibly brave and I would never judge you for surviving one of the toughest battles humanity is facing right now." He comforted her, stroking her bottom lip affectionately with his thumb. Morgan bit down hard on her bottom lip and excused herself, traveling across the room and behind a screen without another word._ _ _ _ _ _

______A double mastectomy, Arthur thought. He remembered the tragic conversation he'd had with Freya about cancer, about how it can ruin lives, or change them forever. "It all depended on the person's willingness to fight." She'd said._ _ _ _ _ _

_______Morgan reappeared from behind the screen in simple jeans and a plain white tee.  
She wandered over to Arthur and began to kiss him again, slowly, deeply. She removed her shirt and pulled away. "Look down." She said, almost impatiently. Arthur obeyed.  
"How did you manage to hide your scars so well?" He asked in awe. Morgan pinched the bridge of her nose. "I never _got _a mastectomy, you bloody halfwit, I've always had this chest!" She informed Arthur with a fond smile.___ _ _ _ _

________A horrible birth defect, Arthur thought. Tragic._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________Morgan saw Arthur's soft smile and rolled her eyes, sighing loudly. She stormed over to her makeup table, covered her large mirror, grabbed a hand held one that Arthur couldn't see and began removing all her makeup and nails. Once she was done she ordered Arthur to close his eyes. He was willing to be patient with her and complied.  
Morgan crossed the room, grabbed Arthur's face and passionately kissed him. Their lips dancing wildly around each other, their tongues probing deep and hungrily as they gnawed at each other's lips. It was hot and fast and oh so right.  
Arthur could feel blood rushing down his body, straight to his hot, tingling groin. He pressed his leg between Morgan's and kissed her deeper still, hands wandering under her shirt and onto the smooth skin of her arched back.  
Morgan moaned into Arthur's mouth, pressing herself closer to Arthur so that he could feel.... huh? He thought, still absorbed in his kiss with Morgan._ _ _ _ _ _

________Impossible. He thought. This is completely and totally impossible._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________Fleeting memories of training with his men filled Arthur's mind. Curious...he thought, the images of his knights sweating and panting after a good day's training, their faces flushed, sent a surge of...something....racing through him. He deepened his kiss with Morgan further, gripping her hips hard.  
Suddenly, more memories filled his mind. Of taverns and drunken decisions that had haunted Arthur in his most feverish dreams for years. _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________That feeling again._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________Arthur let out a low growl, Morgan wrapped her fingers behind Arthur's neck.  
More memories, caves, dice, smirks, jokes and starving, longing looks. Thick lips and gorgeous smiles and fleeting touches._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________That feeling again, but stronger now._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________Arthur's breathing grew shaky as he dug the tips of his fingers into the flesh of Morgan's hips, biting hard on her bottom lip. A desperate whine escaped her as their kiss became more and more frantic. Arthur could feel himself twitching and throbbing. He should slow down.  
Visions of capes, chainmail and a magnificent view of his servant scrubbing the floors. Arthur in Merlin's arms, them fighting together, being together. All those fever dreams reaching down to the depths of his desires. A single slender, pale, perfect figure dancing in his head. _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________That feeling, so much of that feeling..._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

___________Something finally clicked. It all made sense now. Arthur finally got it, he'd figured himself out.  
He was still kissing a stranger. But now Arthur knew he was kissing a man; and enjoying it _tremendously _. Dragging his hands up and down Morgan's back, the strange man shifted his hips forward, and the slow, sensual grinding began.  
He still couldn't shake those visions of Merlin though, of his smile, his smirk, his laugh, his face, his eyes, his lips, his neck...  
"Merlin..." Arthur involuntarily moaned into Morgan's mouth, regretting it instantly.  
"Yes, my lord..." He moaned in reply, nibbling Arthur's top lip.___ _ _ _ _

__________Arthur's heart stopped.  
He pulled away from Morgan._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _


	4. Chapter 4

A _drag queen_ he thought, suddenly remembering from Freya (much too late mind you). Drag queens use stage names, so what's Morgan's real name?? Arthur thought.

Their foreheads still pressed together and their eyes shut, Arthur asked this stunning man, "What's your name. Your real name, not the one you use on stage. The one your friends call you."  
"Martin." He replied without hesitation.  
"Liar." Arthur accused, dragging their lips together. Martin smirked, Arthur couldn't see it, he just knew it.  
Martin separated their foreheads, causing Arthur to look right into the face of his most loyal, annoying and attractive servant in history.  
"Merlin." Arthur rasped.  
Merlin smiled sweetly at him. The man who had just given him the wildest makeout session in his life, who's hard prick had been rubbing up against Arthur's pelvis separated only by a few layers of clothing just now, just gave Arthur the sweetest, most innocent smile. Which was so uniquely, amazingly and perfectly Merlin.  
"It's been a long time, your highness. I've missed you. It's about time you showed up." Merlin mused in his usual playful tone.  
"Hush." Arthur whispered, pressing his body to Merlin's and gripping his warlock's petite hips, "Now that Camelot has fallen, you shall call me my name, any of the following or not at all:" Arthur proceeded to recite an extensive list of sloppy pet names, ranging from "My love", to "My perfect little pancake." This delighted Merlin and caused the broadest, most genuine smile to cross his perfect, swollen lips.  
"I love you." Arthur said, in a daze but meaning every word. But before he had the chance to say or even THINK these next words, Merlin spoke them for him,  
"15 centuries of waiting. Of wanting, of _needing_ you, Arthur. To breathe your air, to see your face, to literally touch _any_  part of you. I'm not even picky, I'd settle for an elbow!" Arthur chuckled in response,  
"You're perfect in every way, Arthur Pendragon, and I've loved you my whole life." Merlin finished.  
"Or at least for quite a hefty chunk of it." Arthur replied with his usual wit, Merlin went doe-eyed instantly and Arthur followed suit.   
The next thing they knew, they were wrapped in a passionate embrace, filled with lust and impatience and sweet, _sweet_ release.  
"D'you wanna come see my flat? Just got it redecorated." Merlin winked as he said his request,  
"Nothing would make me happier." Arthur replied, scooping Merlin off of the ground and into his arms.

He belongs here, Arthur thought, we belong together.   
We always have done.

"Y'know, you would've thought that with all those crusades and endless knight training and what have you, that you'd be able to carry me easier." Merlin teased, biting back a snort.  
"Are you calling me _fat_? AGAIN?"  
Arthur retorted,  
"No, your majesty." Merlin stated matter-of-factly,  
"I'm fighting fit!" Arthur defended himself, looking smug,   
"Oh I _know_ , your majesty." Merlin drawled, letting that gorgeous little teasing smirk curve his mouth.

And Arthur swept Merlin out of Wednesdays, the pair of them calling each other names and insulting one another on the way out (between hot, tender kisses).  
Nothing but a future together lay at their feet.

  
_Fin_


End file.
